


Say Anything (And We Do)

by lazaefair, Poemsingreenink, Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, References to Shakespeare, background Emma Cullen/Matthew Cullen, bronchitis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: Collaborative tumblr ficinspired by that one post about a man, his boyfriend, and bronchitis. Because Goody and Billy woulddefinitelybe Those Guys.
Relationships: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Kudos: 34





	Say Anything (And We Do)

**Author's Note:**

> We are not apologizing to Willy Shakes. He would 100% be thrilled about his work being flagitiously misused for the sake of gay romcom nonsense.

Billy opened the window, despite the heavy rain, and stuck his head outside.

“What are you doing? Get back inside, it’s raining!” he shouted at Goody, who was standing in the middle of the downpour wearing only a tee and jeans, holding a boombox over his head, and a sign hanging from his neck with the letters smudged from the rain.

“I am making a grand romantic gesture to beg forgiveness!”

Billy did not facepalm.

“All you did was steal my M&Ms! I’m not even angry about it!” Well, he was a little annoyed, but he hadn’t thought this would happen when he‘d said as much. “You are being ridiculous!”

“No, I am not!” Goody shouted back. “I am a romantic!”

“There isn’t even any music playing, is there supposed to be music?” Billy asked. “I never saw the actual movie.”

“I think it might be broken,” Goody admitted. “But it’s the thought that counts. Read the sign.”

“It’s smudged from all the rain,” Billy said. “But I get the point. Come inside now before you catch a cold.”

“Not until you forgive me and profess your undying love for me.”

Billy sighed and climbed through the window. The rain was _cold_ as he marched barefoot through the puddles and grabbed Goody by the shirtfront.

“I forgive you for being an idiot, and I love you.”

Goody grinned, and Billy pulled him forward to kiss his stupid, pretty mouth.

(Yes, they spent a month passing bronchitis back and forth until their friends quarantined them and forbade them from seeing each other until the bronchitis cleared up completely. And yes, Goody compared themselves to a modern-day Romeo and Juliet.)

“I’m Juliet, of course,” Goody said, somehow managing to convey overdramatic despair even over the terrible pixelation of the Skype video call.

“No, I’m Juliet,” Billy said.

“But cher, of course you’re the dashing one clattering around town with a sword at your hip, making all the repressed young men of Verona swoon all over their wine goblets.”

“You’re the one who stood under my window and professed your love while I protested,” Billy said, flat.

“True, true. And you _do_ make the moon envious with your beauty.”

“I honestly don’t know why I’m friends with either of you,” Sam said, disembodied until he came into view over Goody’s shoulder, arms folded and clearly exasperated.

“Does that make you Lord Capulet or Montague?” Billy asked just to watch Goody beam and Sam physically facepalm. It was boring being quarantined and separated from Goody. He had to get his entertainment _somewhere._

(Billy was staying with Emma, and she was, at that moment, trying to paint her toenails while IGNORING THIS RIDICULOUS CONVERSATION. She and Matthew were the most sensible relationship of the group: they just went down on each other in public and made out in movies a lot. None of this Shakespearean BS.)

“You can’t actually keep me here against my will.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“How long are you going to keep me unlawfully imprisoned and prevent me from seeing my boyfriend?”

“Look, Billy. I know you’re in love. And that’s great. I support love, but—”

“You can’t reason with them, Matthew, love has robbed them of their reason.”

“We weren’t like this, though.”

“No, but we were more reasonable than them from the beginning, so love didn’t rob of us of _as much_ reason.”

(Less than a week later…)

“God, cher,” was the first thing Goody said to Billy when they came up for air, which was some considerable length of time after he’d run across their living room, climbed into Billy’s lap, and kissed Billy like he was choking to death and Billy was sweet, sweet oxygen. “I missed you, I missed you so much. The pain of bronchitis was nothing compared to how much I ached for you, mon amour.”

“I missed you, too,” Billy said, voice low, face soft. “Every day.”

“Every hour.” Goody kissed him again.

Billy smiled into the kiss. “Every minute.”

“Every second.”

“Seriously, it was _less than a week,”_ Sam said.

“I think it’s sweet,” Matthew said as he came in, but then redeemed himself by handing Sam a very large glass of very expensive red wine. “First time in their lives they could afford to fall in love with someone, and all.”

“Believe me, I know,” Sam said, long-suffering. “Is this the Goldeneye Pinot Noir?”

Matthew smiled and raised his glass. “Yeah, the 2016. I found it in Goody’s secret stash. Figured we all deserve a little somethin’ after this week.”

Over on the couch, Billy and Goody had gone horizontal and were now sloppily making out like the god damn teenagers they definitely were not. “Y’know…I’m startin’ to see why Emma married you,” Sam said.

“Glad to hear,” Matthew said, and clinked his glass against Sam’s.


End file.
